


I Wish I Could Do Better By You ('cause that's what you deserve)

by meteoritecrater



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-19
Updated: 2011-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteoritecrater/pseuds/meteoritecrater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Otherwise known as 'Miketana baby brought up by Brittana fic'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wish I Could Do Better By You ('cause that's what you deserve)

They’re on top of the world when she first brings it up. Santana’s sure she planned it all out, because Brittany’s hand had been abnormally clammy when she tugged them towards the ticket booth. She's wriggling in her seat as the ferris wheel slowly climbs into the sky, and as it comes to a slow stop Santana’s fingers inch towards the waistline of Brittany’s jeans. Her eyes are sparkling as she turns from looking out over the city, and although Santana isn’t sure if she should be expecting Brittany to ask her to play at being pirates, or slide her hand down a couple of inches, she definitely isn’t expecting what comes out of her mouth.

“I want a baby.”

Santana’s pretty sure her mind stays silent for a good, oh, day or so, but unfortunately her mouth doesn’t. “Why?” Blue eyes flash hurt, and she looks for an exit before she can make this worse, but Brittany’s clutching her hand like she’s expecting her to consider opening the door and jumping out. Brittany’s hair flicks behind her shoulder, and there’s a firm set to her jaw that Santana knows too well. “And why are you telling me this now?” Brittany looks at her like she’s said something stupid, and well, okay, fine, so maybe that’s obvious, maybe if she were anywhere but forty feet in the air she would have stopped this conversation already, but, whatever.

“I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. For like, ever, only I couldn’t really bring it up because it took me like three years to convince you to date me and another ten to marry me.”

The way she says it, so matter of fact, like it’s just something she’s accepted about Santana when it’s nothing she should ever have had to accept, settles Santana back in her seat. It doesn’t stop her fingers from running uneasily over the cool metal supports, or the knot in her stomach, but she stills and waits.

“Not right now,” Brittany assures her. “Just, at some point, I’m going to want one. Mike said I should let you know.”

“Mike.”

“He said he’d be the sperm daddy if we wanted.”

“Oh did he.” Someone was going to be getting a phone call. “You can’t just tell me something like this and expect me to be okay with it right away. I haven’t even-- I mean, Jesus, B.”

“I know,” Brittany nods. “Just think about it. Please?”

“Okay,” Santana promises, blowing her hair out of her face.

“Wanna have sex on a ferris wheel?”

Santana’s laugh is shaky, but Brittany’s still grinning at her and she's kind of amazed at herself for managing to handle getting blindsided like that without ruining Brittany's smile. “Is that even really possible?”

“Dunno,” Brittany shrugs, and tugs her closer. “Let’s find out.”

**

“Hi, Santana,” Mike laughs, after Santana finishes cursing at him in broken Spanish.

“What the hell are you doing talking to Britt about that? Cabrón.”

“You guys are my best friends. It’s a total honour, what was I supposed to say? No?” Mike says, and his voice is more serious than Santana has ever heard it before.

“I just... she hadn’t even asked me.” Santana stops pacing the length of her kitchen to rest her forehead against the fridge door. “Why’d she go to you first? You are not having sex with her again.”

“I love you way too much to do that, and you know it.”

Santana’s uncomfortable shrug is almost audible. “Whatever. She could’ve picked someone worse, I guess. Not that this is happening anytime soon. Or ever,” Santana warns.

“You can keep trying in the meantime. If any lesbian can get a girl pregnant, I’d put my money on you.”

Santana hangs up on his laughter.

**

She’s never noticed how many goddamn babies there are in the world before. Everyone seems to be pregnant, or holding one, or talking about the ones they have at home.

It’s disgusting, and she is definitely not thinking about what it would be like to see Brittany holding their baby instead of her niece, or how any kid brought up by them would probably be so awesome it could only end up taking over the world.

**

“Okay,” Santana says, about a year later. Brittany’s sitting on the kitchen counter, and she closes the dishwasher with a click, putting her hands on Brittany’s thighs.

“Okay, you get creeped out when the sun and the moon are in the same sky too?”

“No, well, I mean, it is a bit weird, yeah. But no, I mean. Okay. Baby. Some day.”

“Really?” Brittany asks, her face brightening.

“Yeah. Some day,” Santana stresses.

“Wanna talk about it or...” Brittany says, her nose wrinkling up as she grins.

“Don’t push it,” Santana says, but she leans forward to press a kiss against her smile. “Some day.”

**

Brittany starts slipping it into conversations, and all of a sudden thinking becomes planning. She’s not sure when it changed, but they start talking, then researching, then--

“What if I...”

Brittany stops mid-twirl, her arms falling heavily to her sides as the music leaves them. “I didn’t know you were there,” Brittany says.

Santana holds up a sandwich, looking over at the clock; she’d been caught up in watching her for at least ten minutes.

“When you get pregnant, you’ll have to stop dancing.”

“Not forever,” Brittany says, and her shrug is far too nonchalant. Santana hands over the sandwich with a furrow in her brow. Brittany doesn’t hide her feelings. She's trying to figure out how to handle it, when Brittany swallows the bite of sandwich and frowns at the floor. “It's fine. I can give it up for a little while, for a baby.”

“What if... I... I mean. I could.”

“What?” Brittany's head snaps up, and Santana bites her lip uncomfortably.

“Some day. I mean. Not right now, obviously, but work’s pretty steady, I get covered for maternity leave. You don’t. I mean, it’s the practical decision.” There’s a knot in her stomach that’s heating her face.

“Really?” Brittany asks slowly. “I didn’t ever think you would... you don’t have to, San. I know you don’t really want--”

“I do want this.” Santana says, and the intensity of it surprises even her. “I want a baby. With you. And I can totally rock the pregnant look.”

“You’d be totally hot,” Brittany says, nodding so rapidly Santana’s kind of scared she’s going to lose her balance. “But San...”  

“I don’t want you to have to stop dancing. My job is just what I do, but dancing’s what you are. I love you, and you're the only family I need, but I want a kid with you. And I kind of want to... I mean, you’re going to be an amazing mom without even trying. If it’s actually like, cooked inside me, I might... I don’t know, actually be maybe a little better at it.”

“San,” Brittany says, wrapping her arms around her. The first few kids in her next class are filtering in around them, but Santana can only hold on to Brittany and feel the light scratching of her fingers through the cotton of her shirt. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom. You know how I know that?” Santana shakes her head, and Brittany smiles at her in that way she has when they’re in public and she’s trying to steal a secret kiss. “Because, you love me the best anyone could ever have loved me. There’s no way you won’t love our kid the same.”

“You think way too much of me,” Santana murmurs.

“No,” Brittany says, squeezing her hand before untangling their fingers. “I just know you.”

Santana kind of maybe has to go wash her face in the bathroom before she can go back to work.

**

“So like, do we have sex or what?”

Mike’s face is almost worth the lack of sex in the next few weeks of Santana’s life.

**

Their plans turn into reality, and Santana’s taking folic acid and eating food she doesn’t like and not eating food she does. She stops drinking with Mike and Puck, and stops going for the occasional social smoke with the people she works with. It’s a few years after they planned it to be, but waiting is worth the knowledge that her work can’t do without her, and they’ve saved enough that this kid is going to have the best of everything ever.

Pretty much Santana’s going to make sure this kid has everything it ever wanted, and when Santana tells Brittany this, she looks at her with a funny half smile and says, “I told you so.”

 Santana doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but she resigned herself to sometimes not understanding Brittany a really long time ago.

**

There’s a period where she’s more happy than terrified.

That goes away about the same time the blue cross appears on the pregnancy test.

**

Santana had definitely never pictured her life like this, but Brittany has a way of making Santana want everything she does, and despite the grossness that goes along with it, Santana’s way happier than she ever thought she’d be. She’s also terrified out of her goddamn mind, and kind of creeped out by herself, because pregnancy is no less disgusting on her own body than on anyone else’s. She has a whole new appreciation for Quinn, because this shit is not fun, and the only thing that makes it worth it is Brittany at the end of the day, linking their hands over her stomach and trying to play tic tac toe with the baby because ‘it’s never too early to learn how to be a gracious loser.’

Whenever Brittany leaves, Santana promises the little human growing inside her, their little human growing inside her, that it’s never going to lose at anything, not if she can help it.

She pretends not to hear Brittany tell her stomach when she’s trying to sleep that it’s fine to lose, and mommy Santana isn’t as mean as she pretends to be.

Mommy Santana.

She’s terrified that she’ll do everything wrong, but she knows that whenever she screws up, Brittany will be there, and if it’s something she can’t fix, there’s always going to be Uncle Mike hovering close by.

This kid is totally going to rule the freaking world.


End file.
